


A Waltz to Converse

by Hikarilie



Category: Little Witch Academia
Genre: F/M, Gender Dysphoria, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-10 06:08:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15943349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hikarilie/pseuds/Hikarilie
Summary: The Yule festivities are in full swing, but Constanze and Amanda, two hurting souls, are alone and in need of comfort. They'll find it in each other as they waltz to converse.





	A Waltz to Converse

**Author's Note:**

> CW: dysphoria / transphobia.
> 
> This should be obvious from the tags but, if you have a thing against trans characters/headcanons/people, then skip this one.
> 
> Big shout-out to my friend Keko for helping me with this one! Please check out his art on Instagram (@f_arting) or Tumblr (@oyatsumi).
> 
> Enjoy the fic~

“Hey, Jas, have you seen Contz around?”

Amanda took a sip of the fruit punch, savoring the flavor. It was watered down and had no alcohol, so, it was shit. Just like this party.

The twin braided girl shook her head. “No, it's been a while since I've seen her.”

Jasminka was popping her umpteenth sweet of the night into her mouth, thoroughly enjoying the festivities currently taking place. She had a teal and cyan sarafan with gold leaf-shaped stitches embroidered on the sleeves and a scarf around her neck.

The open field on the center of the campus had been modestly decorated for the Yule season. Large snow-white garlands with mistletoes were strung along the pillars and several tables with equally white pattern-less cloth held bowls of punch and assorted eating goods. Faeries summoned by Lotte gathered in various places, sleeping or playing the evening away, their soft pastel lights draping the event in a jolly ambiance. It lacked more head-bopping music - who'd guess you can't rock to a slow string quartet? -, but beggars can't be choosers, Amanda concluded.

At least the daredevil could be a bit grateful for what was essentially a reprieve. This year's Yuletide attempted to accommodate the variety of winter-related celebrations and practices held across the globe. Past holdings of the fest were strictly based on old, boring-ass Wiccan rituals, given that the academy had a hard-on for the traditional. But not even that could survive in front of the ushering of a worldwide new age of magic that called for a more pluricultural approach.

And all in all, it seemed to be a success - the turn-out this year was much higher, since students actually cared about staying to chat and enjoy time off from classes instead of going home. Guests were also allowed, both those of magic and non-magic background. Everyone seemed comfy and enjoying their time.

But not Amanda. ' _This party is boring as fuck._ ' What kind of self-respecting rebel such as the American would ever feel comfortable in such a slow-paced outing? That boredom was a big factor behind Amanda's contempt for the fest.

Not the only or main reason, however. But if the American complained mentally enough about the shindig and how stupid the old-ass dress Cavendish was wearing looked, that'd distract from all the other nasty feelings that Amanda could do nothing about. Hopefully.

“Well, I'm gonna check up on her, maybe she's with one of our friends. Catch ya, Jas.” Amanda peaced out, turning on high-heeled feet and grabbing a sandwich on the way out. Jasminka noted how stiff her friend looked in the beautiful emerald dress that had been chosen for tonight.

With a concerned smile, Jasminka waved as her roommate left and then set to pouring two glasses of punch. She was soon joined by her companion at the table.

“Heya, Minnie. Is everything fine? You look kinda down, and O'Neill looks like she has even more of a stick up her ass than usual.” Hannah rolled up one of the sleeves of her jacket, which she used on top of a red button-down shirt accompanying a black skater skirt and light grey stockings.  “If she said something to you, I can show her how nasty an aristocrat can be when she’s pissed.”

The Russian shuffled on a foot, mulling. “No, no, Amanda would never do that. I'm just concerned, she and Cons don't seem at their best tonight. Or lately, really…”

Her auburn-haired girlfriend accepted one of the cups when offered and sipped. “You're very kind, Jas, you know? I think there are many people out there who wouldn't care too much if their friends looked like they were hiding some hurt from them. I know I was like that at one point.” She tried not to let guilt seep into her eyes. She'd come to learn just how many signs of repression she'd missed from Diana during their years as friends, and was trying to compensate for that. "Talk to them tomorrow. Let's just enjoy the night for now, ‘kay?”

“Mhm.” Jasminka smiled widely. “Yeah. We could share the Berliners we made in a bit if you want to.”

Hannah leaned in and Eskimo kissed the pink-haired girl. “Sounds like a date to me.”

While the couple delved into their usual mush that Jasminka had many food analogies for (“She’s like the chestnut frosting to my strawberry cake!” came to Amanda’s mind), the fiery-haired witch was currently cursing the soul of the camp gay French king who decided high-heels were a good idea. Hopefully the devil was pushing deep inside his royal a-

“Amandaaaa~!” The American fought to regain balance after being glomped by the school’s number one ball of sugary love. “Happy Wool!”

“That’s Yule, Akko,” corrected Diana, taking her girlfriend’s side. The blonde was clad in a long, Victorian-styled blue dress with puffy sleeves and a sash tied around the waist, ending in a bow over her back. Her long blond tresses were tied into a lace braid ponytail. Long white gloves finished the look.

Akko, meanwhile, opted for a simple bun and a traditional outfit from her country. It looked like a really big bath robe. ‘ _Kimono, right?_ ’ It was actually an _yukata_ that the brunette had brought with her from Japan, but Amanda wasn’t exactly clothes-savvy. If it’s decent enough to go out in public, that’s about as far as the rebel was willing to care about it.

Well, tonight was an exception to that rule. But lingering in those thoughts would only intensify that twisting and churning in the American’s chest that didn’t have any business being there.

“Fancy catching you two here. Especially you, Diana! Thine apparel be most ravishing and gay, eh!” The forced British accent was a wonder to behold.

“I do not speak like that, Amanda.”

“But 18th century Queen Elizabutt Braveheart, who totally was a real person, did. Have you been using the Horologium to steal dresses from the past, Cavendish? Tsk.”

Diana grinned. “It’s a pleasure to see you here as well. Even more given that I thought I’d never lay eyes upon your hair looking presentable.”

Someone with a lot of skill with brushes and hairspray had tamed the flame that usually raged on top of the American’s head, the strands of hair now parted sideways and looking glossy in the warm lights. It made the usually boyish sharp angles look feminine.

“W-well, had to fit in with the theme, right? Besides, I can look cool in anything!” Amanda tried to inject confidence into the words, but it sounded false to Diana’s ears. Before the heiress could press on it, the American continued. “Anyway, I’m looking for one Constanze Albrechtsberger. Small, very grumpy, very German, smells like machine oil, also needs pats to function. Seen her around? I know we haven’t put her mug in the milk cartons yet, but.”

Akko raised her hand. “Oh, I did! She was heading towards the dorm wing a few minutes ago!” The brunette pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “She didn’t answer me when I greeted her, though, I wonder if something was up…”

“That’s what I’m gonna find out.” Eager to skip on the conversation, Amanda stepped away from the couple, ready to retrace the German’s steps. “Catch you later, you lovebirds.” But the daredevil didn’t miss the chance to pinch Diana’s butt before turning around a pillar and disappearing into the vacant halls of the dorm wing, leaving the flustered and furious aristocrat to be held down by Akko.

Once out of the view of anyone else, Amanda kicked the offending footwear away, the chilling cold floor under calloused soles preferable to the alternative. “Tch, fuck this dress code. They couldn’t even have the decency to get me some real punch for the trouble of wearing this crap.”

The walk to the Green Team’s dorm wasn’t particularly long, but in the limbo between the distant, phantasmagorical chords played by the quartet that echoed down the empty hallways and the Green Team’s dormitory, Amanda’s sense of time passing seemed to slow down, stretching as that stupid voice decided to turn its own volume up, mocking and derisive.

That voice that had fully taken shape after the Appleton venture, right after Amanda wore that suit and posed as a guy, wrapping its sharp black nails around the witch’s mind.

‘ ** _What are you so afraid of, O’Neill?_ ** ’

‘ _Nothing. I’m a spirit enjoying the night, free like a bird._ ’

‘ ** _We both know that’s not true._** ’

‘ _Tsk. Maybe I find this dress a bit too fancy-pants for someone as cool as me, so what? Just a stupid social pain and nothing else. Even a rebel like me’s gotta chill down and go with the flow sometimes._ ’

‘ ** _Oh, are you sure of that?_** ’

‘ _Of course._ ’

‘ ** _What a disgusting and hypocritical coward you are._** ’

 _‘Shut the fuck up, you don’t know anything._ ’

‘ ** _Or is it you who refuse to know yourself?_** ’

What an amazing night for Amanda’s mind to be going in these teeth-clenching circles. This was just another stupid outing that required getting on with the program. This wasn’t out of the norm. It wasn’t.

This pit in the chest and the beginning of tears in the corners of those emerald-colored eyes was just dust or maybe decoration glitter.

It was nothing. It was _nothing_.

Nothing. 

Or so the daredevil tried to rationalize, shaking a bruised hand that had just punched the wooden frame of the dormitory and barely avoided breaking a finger in the process.

“Happy fucking Yule, I guess.”

The dormitory was empty, but that was to be expected. Constanze, after all, had the privilege of having her own hideout. But while the engineer liked to keep to herself, Amanda knew the little gal well enough - she wouldn’t just disappear from the party without telling anyone unless something was bothering her.

The American had become used to the silent trust and friendship the two developed over the course of the school year. One wouldn’t look at a fiery jock and then at a silent machinist and think “BFFs”, but the world is interesting like that.

The deadpan girl had quickly learned to parse through Amanda’s rebel bullshit and see the parts not wore on the sleeve, while Amanda had become an expert in reading the extremely subtle signs of emotion and word-filled gazes Constanze let show through that impassive look and fierce silence.

And of course, her smiles. Those rare and wide eye-to-eye grins that made the world look brighter and sugary and all that gay shit. Amanda lived for those grins.

This mutual ability to understand what the other witch hid beneath the surface and behind their hobbies had inevitably drawn the two together.

Many evenings were spent between the two in comfortable silence, Amanda practicing dance moves - a hobby that the witch wasn’t _quite_ as comfortable showing the world when compared to broom riding - while getting (honestly hard but constructive) criticism from Constanze’s keen eye, trained to find any lack of precision after years of dealing with extremely small machinery.

Constanze, for her part, would throw project ideas back and forth with the rebel, the latter’s more organic view on the world helping to smooth out the parts the little German would suffer to devise otherwise.

Which is why the sudden growing distance between Constanze and her friends in the week preceding Yule had been so off putting to Amanda. ‘ _Time to figure out what’s wrong with the egghead._ ’

Amanda punched the lever that activated the drop-down sequence into Constanze’s laboratory. First-timers would usually bang their head on something, but the orange and salmon haired witch fell onto the cart with finesse.

Once the bottom of the cart slided open, the daredevil landed with both feet on the couch below and flipped off of it, somersaulting in the air before landing perfectly on the floor. “A cool as fuck entrance, O’Neill.” Amanda bowed to some invisible crowd cheering for the athletic prowess in display.

The main section of the hidden lair was empty, save for a working table and a drawing board. Given how clean everything looked, the top broom rider of the academy concluded that the li’l one was going through a creative block.

“Yo, Contz?” The American’s rough and somewhat deep voice bounced off the tall roof of the hideout with no answer. Amanda turned around the corner where the Grand Charion’s dock used to be and, whaddya know, there was the girl in all her crying glory.

Wait. Oh, fuck.

A crouched Constanze, clad in a beautiful teal gown and with her hair loose, silently wept in the corner, a frantic Stanbot dancing around her and trying to cheer her up.

“Miss Constanze, look! I brought fireworks!” The poor little robot held a flare in its hands which it set it off, succeeding only in being knocked back by the recoil, screaming in its high-pitched voice, into a pile of boxes.

Amanda whipped out the wand kept in the dress’ sash and cast a spell to stop the flame licking one of the boxes before it could spread. It seemed as though the little robot was out for the count for now. “Oh boy, what have I walked into here?” The daredevil knelt by the navy-blue haired engineer, careful with the approach. “Yo, Contz? What’s up?”

No response. Only Constanze’s sobbing could be parsed through the arms where she had buried her face into.

Ugh, sappy feelings weren’t Amanda’s strong point at all. The rebel sat on the ground in front of Constanze, propping a cheek on a closed fist with a sigh. “Look, I can’t really help if you don’t tell me what’s going on.” Alas, only silence met Amanda’s best attempt at emotional comfort.

‘ _Ugh, what would Akko do?_ ’ Amanda pondered. ‘… _Press on even if she looks like an intrusive dick? Should I do that? Maybe I should just go and get her to deal with this._ ’ As much as the daredevil loved and had grown closer to Constanze in the past months, their time was spent in quiet and mutual understanding. Never had either of the two dormmates had to deal with the other breaking down like this, and thus, Amanda was lost on how to proceed.

“Look, I’ll go get Akko. Maybe try drinking some wate…” The American had stood up and was turning to leave, but was stopped by a pair of desperate hands clinging to the hem of the emerald dress. This fucking thing was not just a drag to walk around but also an easy way for someone to grab and make the orange-and-salmon haired witch trip or stay in place. With a sigh, Amanda sat back down and awkwardly wrapped an arm around the German’s shoulders, rubbing circles over her scapulae.

Constanze threw her arms around Amanda’s neck in an uncomfortable, breath-crushing hug, burying her tightly shut and watery eyes on the tanned skin on the crook of the American’s neck.

Amanda patted the German on the back awkwardly. “There there, nerd. Easy now. Just… tell me what’s up already.”

The feeling of a head shaking told Amanda that yet no more answers would be delivered, which was upsetting. Amanda kept caressing and cooing the witch, slowly trying to escape out of her grasp. “M-maybe I should get you some tissues or whatever.”

Who’d guess that such tiny hands were so strong, however? A bonus of working with heavy machinery. Amanda’s patience was running thin, the tight hold making the _self-conscience_ of the American’s own body so much more intense. How soft the daredevil’s shoulders were, the deep crevasse created by that shapely waist and not aided by an athletic routine, the large hips currently sitting against the floor. Not to mention the intruders.

Amanda felt an alien feeling - whatever it was, it was uncomfortable and felt like a growing mass had lodged itself inside the American’s airway, expanding and blocking the throat, the lungs, even the back of the mouth.

Breath quickening, mind slowly going into a noisy haze, as though soundless static was pouring in; inaudible, but nonetheless intense, drilling a hole into the convoluted and distressed thoughts the American was trying and failing to deal with. Having to carry the weight - metaphorical and literal - of someone else was making it worse.

‘ _Off. Off. OFF_. **_OFF OF ME_** _!_ ’

Constanze didn’t notice her roommate hyperventilating, silently crying into the comforting and familiar skin, unconsciously pressing her small body into the daredevil’s bust. Perhaps seeking some motherly comfort that had long been denied. She clutched, even if the person holding her back was someone she couldn’t open up to. Not like there _was_ anyone she could open up to. Not about this. Not about herself.

She couldn’t bear to lose a loved one to disgust. Not again.

Amanda’s frantic voice rung distant in her ears, unheard. The German was too lost in that fear that had been planted a year ago, during the last day she’d spent in her homeland.

‘ _One day, Eberhard, they_ will _find out. And when they do, you’ll come running back, tail between your legs, regretting ever going forward with this degeneracy._ ’

‘…’

The wind was quite cold in Wenningstedt that day when Constanze, not looking behind, wordlessly took the leyline to Blytonbury, broom leaving the ground. The disapproving stare of Mrs. Albrechtsberger burned on the back of her heavy coat.

Having to balance the weight of a toolbox chock full of tools, screws, bolts and other items of the engineer’s trade was a strangely comforting feeling. It distracted her from the bitter farewell and the weight in her own chest. One of those exquisite balances of the machinery that was human emotion, the one machinery the magitronics prodigy couldn’t and maybe would never be able to break down into its smaller parts to completely understand.

If she did, maybe she could make her family love her.

Then, a rude shove broke her out of her thoughts. Amanda had pushed her away and was now propped against a wall, clutching the place around the bust of the dress and breathing heavily. But the clutching motion seemed to only distress the American further, for a reason Constanze couldn’t fathom.

Constanze realized she’d failed to notice her roommate’s growing panic and felt a pang of guilt. Wiping away her tears, the engineer stood up and tried approaching her roommate. However, she was met with a twitching, furious glare that told her to stand back. And, with her muscles tensing up, Constanze did.

“Fuck… I hate these fucking things…” The hand Amanda held over the dress’ bust was clutching into the fabric, deeper and deeper, drawing blood from the broken skin of the cleavage. “Why the fuck couldn’t you just… let go or… fucking… _talk_?!” The vitriol poured with clear difficulty through Amanda’s raspy gasps. The athlete’s knees wobbled, almost too weak to hold the emotional mess above them.

A small puddle of sweat dropping from the American’s body pooled on the cold metal floor. Constanze decided to let her gaze rest there, more interested in watching the liquid reflecting the white light of the tall ceiling. Better than meeting her best friend’s rage.

Constanze opened her mouth and tried to say something, but as they always did, words died in her mouth, crawling up through her dry throat only to be met with a quick death, unsaid, unheard, unfelt.

“Tch. It must be so fucking easy, huh?”

The engineer’s eyes popped up in surprise. She felt a foreboding feeling, correctly predicting what the daredevil would say next.

“Just… being able to fucking hide here whenever things don’t go your way. Never having to care about what people think of when they look at you, because you’re invisible in the crowd. Never feeling like a fucking alien in your own skin. I _wish_ I had that fucking luxury, Contz.” Amanda’s breathing had slowly stabilized, but not the tense and afflicted teenager heart behind it, bleeding from the angst of self-hatred that, without a broom or something to punch or ridicule, could only be vented by finding something - or someone - towards which it could be redirected.

Because boy, oh boy, was there ever a fucking pool of repressed feelings inside the redhead waiting to explode like a soda can that had been thrown over and over against the cold floor of reality.

Amanda so desperately clamored for someone who’d just lend a friendly shoulder, someone who would wholeheartedly listen to those fucking feelings that made the daredevil feel pathetic. How could Constanze be so cold and deny that affection as though it was trash?

The German, for her part, balled her fists, unfairness eating away at and replacing her guilt as well as the other issues that brought her down here in the first place. Amanda knew nothing of what she’d been through, the things she’d done to get to Luna Nova, so how dare…

“Yet, you reject to tell me what the fuck’s up. I’m your roommate. Jennifer’s tits, I’m your _friend_!” Amanda approached Constanze and poked the girl’s chest harshly. “When are you going to fucking let people in?”

‘ ** _Hypocrite,_** ’ spoke the voice in Amanda’s head. The American ignored it and took a few steps forward, intimidating Constanze into stepping backwards. The engineer grit her teeth, letting her eyes and body language pronounce the anger swelling up inside of her that her voice could not.

“When are you gonna stop crawling into this hideout like you’re nine years old and the outside world is evil and scawy? When are you going to accept your friends’ help?! _WHEN THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING TO FACE THE REAL WORLD, CONSTANZE?!_ ”

“ _VERDAMMTE SCHEIẞE_ , AMANDA, IT’S NOT AS EASY AS YOU THINK!”

Constanze clamped her mouth shut, a new wave of dysphoria washing into her soul. Whatever else the daredevil had to say was left forgotten, emerald eyes shrinking to pin pricks after hearing the deep, boyish pitch her roommate had spoken in.

The German squinted, brows furrowed angrily and tears pooling at the sides of her eyes. She grumbled loudly in frustration and then placed her hands on Amanda’s abdomen, attempting to push her towards the escape couch.

‘ _One day, Eberhard, they_ will _find out.’_

Her mother’s words came to her thoughts like water dripping from a tap. They will find out, they will find out, they will find out.

Why now? Why here? Why Amanda? ‘ _Not Amanda. Please. I…_ ’

Speaking of Amanda, the broom rider had been struck silent by the sudden turn in the situation. Constanze’s clearly unused and dry voice ringed in the rebel’s mind, deep and somewhat masculine. It took a few seconds for the athlete to gain bearings once more and place a foot down, easily overpowering the shorter one of the duo.

“Whoa there, you’re not getting rid of me so easily, missy.”

‘ _Missy,_ ’ the engineer mulled, biting her lower lip as another tear drew a streak down the bridge of her nose. ‘ _What is she talking about? Is this pity? She knows I’m not a real girl now._ ’

Weak, tired and reluctant came Constanze’s voice out again, now falling into a falsetto. “Just go… away…” To no end she kept pushing against her roommate, until the combined physical and emotional exhaustion forced her to give up. She slumped to her knees in front of Amanda, a now finally reactivated Stanbot rushing to her side.

“Leave now!” Screeched the nasal voice of the automaton. “Miss Constanze doesn’t want to talk to you!”

Heart heavy from the angry screams, the taste of venom still burning on the back of the daredevil’s throat, Amanda knelt on a foot and took Constanze into a hug. A genuine and not one-sided hug this time.

“Look, I don’t really know what’s going on, Cons. But I will if you just let me in.” Amanda tried looking into the short witch’s eyes, but they refused to meet her - short for a split second, after which they darted away immediately, as though the emeralds in the American’s eyes were precious stones promising riches of acceptance but hiding a possible curse of prejudice beneath their gleam.

Trusting was hard for the two good friends.

But fear as they might, they decided that maybe it was time to allow their walls to drop around the other. After all, when else would they be able to?

Maybe just for this one evening, Constanze would be honest. Even if she was sure she’d be on the receiving end of an expulsion letter first thing in the morning.

Maybe for just this one evening, Amanda would be honest. Even if the American was sure that what had to be said was hard to understand or accept.

Trusting wasn’t impossible.

 

* * *

 

The old, rigid mattress was as uncomfortable as ever under Amanda’s butt. But it served well enough for its purpose of providing a place for the two witches to calm down while sharing in an awkward silence.

Constanze slowly sipped at a cup of hot chocolate milk, her go-to comfort drink. Amanda had just settled for stretching joints, something that always helped the American to calm down after stress, be it that of an intense workout or dopey emotional shit. Constanze had applied a healing spell over the bruises Amanda had produced on the hand and bust, the dull ache from the recovering skin similar to the one emotional one that was left after their argument.

Amanda sighed. “A’ight, so, like… I’m not gonna force you to talk about whatever that was. I should’ve been less of an ass about you not accepting people in your emotional space or whatever before, anyway.” The orange and salmon haired witch’s face hid itself inside a palm, struggling to string words together.

The daredevil felt a warmth break the cold room temperature that had settled around the bruised hand. Constanze averted her gaze, but Amanda knew the firm but gentle hold of hands, the physical contact even after their argument, meant the little engineer was allowing the American in.

“Tch. You shouldn’t be so forgiving of me after I was such an ass to you, Contz.”

“Indeed, Miss Constanze! She-” Amanda flinched at the word, “-is right. She was extremely mean and, dare I say, a big butt!”

Amanda glared at the intruding third wheel automaton. The navy-blue haired witch simply shook her head, as if saying ‘ _No, this is what I want._ ’

The robot harrumphed. Constanze pointed to a spot under her bed and the reluctant bot, after gifting Amanda with a dirty look - or as dirty as a non-expressive face like that could provide -  dived under the frame, before coming back struggling to drag a heavy cardboard box. The American took pity on it and grabbed the box, handing it to the machinist. The Stanbot seemed grateful and a little less angry at the tall witch, though it remained too proud to say thank you.

Placing it on her lap, Constanze started going through the box’s contents. Knick knacks from home or acquired during the school year, graded exams, photos. She finally stopped on an envelope bearing the Luna Nova insignia stamped over a broken wax seal. Here the little witch stopped, the skin of her fingers digging into the cellulose. Her eyes still refused to meet Amanda’s.

“So…” Amanda started after a few wordless (well, that was to be expected) and actionless moments. “That’s, like, your acceptance letter, right?”

Constanze nodded.

“Okay, I’m lost. What does that have to do with anything? And, you know…” the American trailed off, not having _that_ much lack of tact so as to finish with ‘and you sounding like a guy’.

With a shaking hand, Constanze handed the envelope to her roommate. ‘ _Tch, my poor little dork,_ ’ thought the concerned daredevil while accepting the bundle of papers. Without thinking much, Amanda wrapped an arm around the other witch’s shoulders, pulling her closer.

The unusual display of affection from the rough-and-tough witch took both by surprise, with Constanze gasping. Amanda couldn’t tell why the embrace had happened either, but hey, if the girl needed comfort, might as well give it. Out of character as it may be. ' _I’m a no-shit-takin’ rebel, not a cold-hearted bitch. Leave that to Cavendish._ ’

Constanze grasped the fabric of Amanda’s dress, her breath picking up in pace as anxiety started to kick in. Amanda wondered whether to stop and try providing more emotional aid, but decided against it. Hadn’t gone so well the last time, might as well just rip the band-aid off and make this easier on everyone. Whatever ‘this’ was.

When Amanda unfolded the acceptance letter, another sheet if paper tucked inside of it slipped into the American’s lap. The witch set it aside, deciding to skim over the certificate first.

\---

**_LUNA NOVA ACADEMY OF WITCHCRAFT_**

**_OFFICE OF ADMISSIONS AND PERMANENCE_ **

  _July 30th, 2017_

_Dear Mx. Albrechtsberger,_

_The academic body of prestigious Luna Nova Academy, the renowned millennia-old institution and reference in the field of magic and the occult, would like to congratulate you on passing our entrance exams and becoming eligible for a studentship._

_If you so accept to enroll into our academy, please send an answer within two weeks. A list of regulations and materials to be acquired in preparation for the school year will be sent afterwards._

_May magic prosper in your life and achievements._

_With regards,_

_Anne-Marie Finnelan_

_Director of Admissions and Permanence_

\---

Amanda turned the piece of paper around, looking for anything else of interest. But, nuh-uh, same by-the-book fluff the American had received last year at the O’Neill household.

‘ _Our little girl is finally going somewhere in life, Harold!_ ’

The daredevil’s teeth grit against each other at the memory. Even back then those words hurt.

Constanze gingerly gestured towards the second slip of paper, her arm moving rigidly as though an old machine whose moving parts had rusted over decades go.

Amanda hadn’t received a second letter to accompany the letter of admission. This must be the one containing whatever Constanze wanted to show.

\---

**_LUNA NOVA ACADEMY OF WITCHCRAFT_ **

**_OFFICE OF ADMISSIONS AND PERMANENCE_ **

_July 31st, 2017_

_Dear Mx. Albrechtsberger,_

_You’ve been accepted into the Minority Enrollment and Permanence Program, which seeks to diversify our academy’s student body by granting marginalized women of magic potential over the world an opportunity to become a pupil under our prestigious tutelage._

_This program encourages and prioritizes, among others, students of color, those with disabilities, those in poor financial conditions, those of non-standard sexual orientations, of transgender identities and of non-magic descent. We hope that by including the potential you and others may bring we can expand the frontiers of magic, a necessity in these days where the craft is not as appreciated._

_The program strives to create an environment where these students may develop their abilities without persecution or judgement. Specific inclusion treatment, if at all requested or considered necessary, will be listed below._

_-_

_As per written request and in compliance with Article 63 of the Admission Statute of Regulations,_ **_EBERHARD VON BRAUNSCHBANK-ALBRECHTSBERGER_ ** _will heretofore be referred publicly and in visible documentation solely as_ **_CONSTANZE AMALIE VON BRAUNSCHBANK-ALBRECHTSBERGER_ ** _, any other usage of the civil name being reserved solely for internal affairs and documentation. This constitutes the first case of an assigned male at birth being enrolled as an student in this academy and is thus to be handled with care so as to set a proper precedent, whether Mx. Albrechtsberger demonstrates magical aptitude or not._

_Professors are required to utilize treatment through feminine pronouns and no exclusionary treatment will be forced upon the student during the school year. Measures for inclusion include but are not limited to common usage of the bathroom, room allocation with cisgender students and the right to not have her condition publicly outed._

_Inability in complying with these procedures as well as any sort of discriminatory attitude (transphobia) will be met with disciplinary action to be judged by the head of the department._

_We hope to provide you a comfortable and inclusive experience._

_Anne-Marie Finnelan_

_Director of Admissions and Permanence_

\---

“Oh.”

Amanda turned to face Constanze, who had still elected to remain looking away. The girl was on the verge of a panic attack, it seemed, tears building at the corners of her eyes - those little eyes, always so hardened and impassive, now vulnerable and scared. That much sadness did not belong in them.

Neither spoke or acted for a couple of minutes, their trains of thoughts running at ballistic speed.

Then Amanda broke the silence with a loud and mirthful laugh.

“Fuck! I can’t believe it!”

Constanze recoiled and her crestfallen look deepened. ‘ _Of course Amanda’s laughing. I’m ridiculous._ ’

The engineer blinked when her roommate pulled her closer into their embrace. “Tsk, first my gaydar and now my transceiver, both broken. I never caught on that Jas was bi, and now here you are, you little rascal.”

The German’s eyes were now open wide. She tilted her head sideways, inquisitive and somewhat confused.

“Oh, what, you thought I was gonna give you the stink for being trans? Please, look at me, I’m all about not fitting into roles, you stupid dork.” Amanda gave the witch a noogie, and Constanze couldn’t help but giggle. “You’re my little nerd girl and ain’t anything gonna change that.”

The breath in Amanda’s chest was forced out by a pair of tiny arms wrapping themselves around the American’s waist in a tight, grateful hug. The wide toothy smile from the witch would have been a treat at any moment, but after seeing her huddled in desperation, crying and afraid, it was ten times better.

The rebel wasn’t very used to this kind of physical mush, but honestly, it wasn’t bad at all when it came to Constanze. The orange and salmon haired witch ran a hand through the German’s long and smooth locks, glossy under the room’s light. The little girl almost purred under the comforting and relieving touch.

“So, you’re a trans gal, that’s cool. Sorry if I, uh, kinda forced you to come out there. Really guilty about that part.” Constanze finally let go of her roommate’s body, wiping some stray tears of joy away with her knuckles. She shook her head, grinning, as though saying ‘ _It’s fine’._

“Whew. But that doesn’t explain why you were crying though.”

Constanze had been so caught up in the positive response from her roommate that she’d forgotten about the ordeal. “Dysphoria…” She whispered in a low volume, twiddling her fingers.

Hmm, that word sounded familiar but the American couldn’t quite nail it down. “Whazzat mean? Is it some kind of stomach ache from all that weird creamy toast?”

“ _Hors d’oeuvres_ is what those are called!” Piped the Stanbot from where it sat on the floor, raising a pointer finger up. “As for your other question, gender dysphoria is a condition of profound dissatisfaction relating to the incongruity between one’s appearance, social position or perceiving by others and their gender identity. It usually involves feeling as though one’s body is wrong and that they’d prefer it to resemble another body ideal, such as that of a cisgender man or woman!”

The automaton bowed, proud of its short lecture. And when it finished, Amanda felt some stirring emotion. But not like the ones from before, that emerged from a broth of shitty desperation. It was more like an epiphany.

Could those feelings be…

“So you’re feeling all of that, you know…” Amanda waved a hand in a circle. “What little screwy boy down there said? Not feeling enough like a girl?” The American knew about trans people but was still treading on thin ice to figure out proper terminology for the topic.

“Basically. A part of why I… talk little.” It was very weird to actually hear the girl speak, even if it was just a few words at a time. When she was calm and collected, Constanze’s voice was akin to a cutesy cartoon character. A bit too high-pitched at times, but overall cute and even a bit velvety. Amanda found it endearing.

“Okay, got it. So you started feeling dysphoria at the ball?”

“Mhm. I… the girls… were prettier.” She looked dejected.

“Tch.” Amanda stood up from the bed, lowered a bit and presented a right hand to Constanze, who stared at the open palm, confused.

Amanda smirked. “Oh, yeah, let me do this the proper way.” With a closed fist, Amanda did a clearing of the throat. “Constanze Amalie von Braunschbank-Albrechtsberger, the most beautiful dork I’ve seen tonight - and damn did I see a lot of hotties in this old-ass castle this evening -, princess of all that is nerd; will you accept this dance?”

Constanze’s jaw dropped and she covered her mouth with a hand, red starting to tint her cheeks.

“Come on, don’t leave a gentleman hanging.” Amanda was joking about the chivalrous act, but for some reason, it felt nice to say that word.

A bit unsure, Constanze took the redhead’s hand and stepped on the floor with her dark blue flats, clueless on what to do next. Amanda’s other hand wrapped around the navy-blue haired girl’s waist, taking the leading position. “Now you place your other hand on my shoulder. Yo, Stanley!”

“It’s Stanbot, wench!”

“Love ya too. Play a waltz for us, will ya!”

“Hmpf!” The robot shifted through its memory, searching for a fitting song in the library of songs Constanze had packed into the bot’s drive before leaving Germany. It finally settled on [a waltz](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yylL5iD3zpM) with a female vocalist singing a simple tune to follow the instrumental track.

It brought images of this one dimly-lit but well-kept bar where Amanda would sometimes hang out at back at the States, nestled inside an alley at the end of a battered cobblestone path. Working men, housewives and old coots would go there to take a break from life and sip a shot or two while watching couples dance on top of a small stage in competitions held every night, the big prize being a free meal. The low lights, the scent of cheap whiskey, the sounds of plucked strings and wind passing through the slits and pipes of wind instruments; all felt more like home than the O’Neill household.

While Amanda never actually drank while there, the place was still a nice reprieve from the prissy fortuneteller household that expected Amanda to be a perfect little princess that would carry the torch with feminine grace. It was also a reprieve from _those_ thoughts, the same infuriating and confusing ones from tonight.

Even after all these years, after constructing a rebellious attitude and image to cope with the lack of a positive body image, those indescribable and puzzling feelings of something just being _off_ kept resurfacing with a revenge.

Amanda led Constanze through the basics of the waltz. Step, slide, step - repeat. The first two repetitions were awkward, with the smaller witch stepping on her partner’s right foot on the first attempt and kicking Stanbot in the head during the second. Constanze’s steps were surprisingly heavier than Amanda had predicted, too. But by the third go, the two had fallen into a comfortable silent rhythm.

They glided around the room with grace, what with Amanda being a very good teacher, thank you very much. Their intertwined digits moved in the song’s tempo, exploring the shape of the other’s knuckles, another one of many spontaneous gestures that seemed to be a recurring theme for the evening.

Amanda couldn’t help but sneak looks at the other witch as they repeated the motions. The girl had a mostly androgynous appearance, but the redhead hadn’t been lying about her looking beautiful. Her dress flowed each time they moved, glistening in the light of the room. The teal dress accented her bright eyes, still puffy from crying. Her legs moved in straight, almost mechanical angles, and her bust swayed slightly to the side each time their feet met the floor in a step. It was an adorable little quirk.

And for once, Amanda knew how it felt to be one of those dancing couples.

Constanze analyzed the mechanisms behind their pendulum dance, like the good engineer she was. Everything had a pattern, a constant, one she could find if she looked hard enough. That belief was her moving force, the burning fuel in her heart that allowed her to power through her family’s prejudice after she came out at the age of twelve.

_‘Constanze Amalie?’ The woman scoffed as her eyes skimmed over the acceptance letter. ‘Why do you scorn the name I gave you with so much love?’_

Eberhard, her deadname, meant ‘wild boar’. A name entrenched in the intensity and force of nature, reminiscent of the raw strength of a predator. A perfect choice for an imposing man who decided to go through life leading others through his instinct and commanding presence, is what mom had said.

But she was none of those things.

In the many evenings where her father and mother would tell her to not leave the table after dinner, only to spew a long rant on how embarrassing and disheartening it was to have a child like her, trying to make her ‘change her mind’, her solace would usually be the old garage where her father kept his tools.

Time and time again she’d spend an hour organizing the man’s cluttered mess of parts and utensils using an organization system that only she could understand, pushing away the bile-inducing words she heard so frequently from them. ‘Disgrace’, ‘gross’, ‘fag’, ‘mentally ill’.

Her part-time job at a clockwork shop allowed her to bring bags of gears and springs home, where she’d practice her hobby of building mechanical knick-knacks.

Constanze’s favorite creation from that time was a music box. It was shaped to look like a ship, with the crank being the wheel, playing _Danse Macabre_ when wound up. The sails would move left and right as the song went, looking like a breeze was pushing them. Simple but pretty, she’d decided.

It was with that practice, coupled with studying tomes on magic in between classes - books that were always available at her school’s library, given no one else had any interest in the old craft - allowed her to produce her first Stanbot.

Her request for entry into Luna Nova had been sent on the talons of a fully functional owl made out of gears, enchanted with a jade stone she’d brought from the single magic item store in the entire region - spending three months worth of her salary - and engraved with a rune, somewhat advanced golem-based magic. If they were going to let her in, given the fact she was legally male and applying for an all-girls school, she would have to go all out.

They were understandably impressed and accepted her.

Constanze. ‘Constant’.

Amalie. ‘Hard working’.

The world was an enormous clock and she found solace in messing with its gears, to bend its rules to her dreams and wild ideas, no matter how much hard work it took. And it was with those ideals in mind that she forged a name that was hers and hers only.

‘ _My name is Constanze Amalie. It means more to me than yours ever did, mother,_ ’ were the words she never told her mother.

And her friends liked her like this, no matter how much her mom had tried to gaslight her into thinking she’d be a pariah of some sort if she was true to herself.

And Amanda, especially, liked her for who she was, transgender or not. The daredevil even asked her for a dance, not caring for how the German tried to push the American away like with everyone else.

‘ _The most beautiful dork I’ve seen tonight._ '

And dancing with her knight in shining armor did make her feel very beautiful. Like a princess, tacky as it may be.

And if her knight thought she was just as much of a girl as any of their friends, then maybe it was time for Constanze to stop doubting herself. She was a girl, strong and determined. And tonight, she had been asked her first dance by a gentleman.  

The slow sway was calming. The night had been a swirl of dysphoria and fear, feeling as though a thousand spiders were crawling up her skin and nestling into her chest. She was melting into Amanda’s touch, occasionally stealing looks at the American’s beautiful angular shapes and fiery eyes that shone with rebellion.

The feel of that slightly tanned skin projecting itself around the shape of her hand, the way she could feel the twitches in the athlete’s muscles as their hands gripped each other, waltzing through the room, alone…

A shiver ran up her spine with those thoughts.

She leaned closer and closer to her partner, each repetition of their dance working towards abolishing the unacceptable space separating the German from the taller witch’s muscular and boyish body. Soon, her head nestled itself on Amanda’s chest. The act went by without protest.

It was curious to both how easily and quickly they were letting the other into their personal space. Such intimacy was rare to both. Their walls were made of solid stuff.

The waltz drew to a close, and so did the two. Their movements slowed into a halt. Constanze hugged Amanda’s waist, while the redhead’s hands held each other behind the German’s back, pulling her closer.

Constanze lifted her head. Shades of turquoise met each other in a stare. And even as her cheeks began to tint with red, she didn’t flinch.

Amanda didn’t either. It was an awkward angle, what with their being so close, but it still felt comfortable. The redhead, without thinking much, leaned in closer.

Constanze seemed to not be thinking much either, as she stood on the tips of her toes. Their faces approached, both feeling the other’s warm breath touch their cold skin…

And then Constanze placed a hand over Amanda’s bust to prop herself up. The American recoiled instantaneously, tripping on bare feet.

Constanze almost fell to the floor when the hands holding her suddenly gave out, but she was caught quickly thanks to the redhead’s good reflexes. Once the German was steady on her feet, Amanda took a step back and collapsed by the frame of the double bunk bed, breathing heavily and using a hand to hold a sweating forehead.

This time it was Constanze who sat down to try to help her friend after the sudden onslaught of panic. “What… wrong…?”

It took a while for Amanda to calm down. Constanze scooted closer to the redhead witch, hugging Amanda’s right arm and nuzzling it. The American couldn’t help but chuckle, despite the current sour mood. The little girl looked like a cat.

Amanda’s hand ran through the orange and salmon locks Jasminka had lovingly brushed earlier, leaving a mess in its wake. The American’s eyes settled on the floor before an answer was produced.

“Say, Cons… that whole dysphoria thing.”

Constanze nodded.

“Let’s say I… maybe feel the same. Maybe I don’t like being seen as a girl, or having these curves, or these mounds of fat on my chest. What would you think of it?”

Constanze’s arms wrapped themselves around Amanda’s neck and she nuzzled the American’s cheek. The latter felt a heartbeat skipping.

“Love… how you are.”

The German placed a kiss on Amanda’s cheek.

Pfft.

Stupid heart. Stupid feelings.

Why did everything look hazy?

Oh, yeah.

Tears. Those were a thing.

“You can tell me,” the navy-blue haired witch spoke tenderly.

Amanda chuckled. It was a given that Constanze, of all people, wouldn’t reject these feelings Amanda had. But after spending so long ignoring these feelings, pushing them down out of a fear of rejection, it was hard to believe it was so easy. The American hugged the German tightly, chuckling dryly.

“I was so fucking wrong, Contz.”

The small girl cocked her head to the side. “Hm?”

“I called you weak and shit, but in reality, you’re strong as fuck. At fifteen, you flipped off your family, decided you’d be the girl you are inside and travel to another country by yourself to study at an all-girls school. Without support too, just a lot of determination and being a cute hard-head.” Amanda scoffed. “But me? Up to this moment I’ve just ignored this pile of crap, looking away and whistling. Everyone takes me for a big rebel who does whatever she wants, when really? I just sometimes wish I could be the rebel who does whatever _he_ wants. Pathetic…”

“Not weak.”

The American broke his self-deprecating ramble to listen.

“Some… need support. I’m support.” Constanze’s eyes were alight with determination. God, where did the pipsqueak find all of that gumption? “What… is it like?”

“Geeze, I…” Amanda fiddled with his fingers, trying to put it into words. “It’s not like, a continuous thing? Sometimes I don’t care about my body or whether people think I’m a girl. I don’t feel like I’m a girl those times either, but I just don’t give a fuck. But…” The young man gesticulated to his feminine outfit and appearance with his left hand.

“There’s times when I wish I could turn into a real guy. Not have to wear feminine shit or have all these gross parts and curves. When Akko and I went to Appleton, it felt so… liberating.” He nestled his head in the crook of Constanze’s neck. “And having to go to the ball using this fucking thing was the death of me.” The American boy sighed. “I’m so done with the uniform skirt too. It fucking sucks.”

Constanze rubbed circles on his back, closing her eyes and nodding. “I see. But you don’t… turn into. You already are… a real guy.”

That was the moment the voice finally went away, pleased.

Amanda’s tears flowed freely, dripping on the teal fabric of Constanze’s dress like an open tap. “Stop it, you tiny dork, I don’t deserve this much kindness.”

“You do.” Constanze gently pushed him back by the shoulders until their eyes met. She bit her lower lip, looking uncertain for a short moment, before her eyebrows furrowed and her irises snapped into their usual determined stare.

She closed off the space between their faces, planting a quick and sloppy kiss on Amanda’s lips. His eyes went wide and he didn’t react. His heart was racing.

Constanze broke the kiss after a mere couple of seconds. She pursed her lips and frowned at the lack of response from Amanda, positive or negative. “Sorry. Was forward. Just…” She turned her head sideways, cheeks tinted with a blush. Between her shyness and general verbal impediment, it was impossible for the German to properly say how she felt for her roommate.

Picking up on her nervousness, Stanbot dipped into the neural link with its constructor and chimed in with its high-pitched voice. “Miss Constanze is in love with Mister O’Neill! She thinks he is a handsome gentleman who she loves spending so much time with, even if she does not outwardly demonstrate it!”

Hmm. Time for a scientific experiment. Could the power of sheer embarrassment teleport Constanze out of the dorm if she buried her face in her hands hard enough?

When Amanda finally snapped out of his stupor, he clicked his tongue and grinned. “Ooh, I see. So my charm has already smitten a lady’s heart? Didn’t know I was that handsome.” He stood up and retrieved his wand from the sash of the dress he wore. “Ain’t that much of a gentleman like this, though. _Metamorphie Vestesse_!”

Constanze looked up from her hands after the American went silent. Her jaw dropped. The redhead was now clad in a brown tailcoat over a salmon polo shirt and a crimson tie. He wore matching brown pants and a pair of black shoes. The outfit complimented his angular features and sleek, athletic build.

His handsome fire-like hair, now slicked back, didn’t hurt either.

The usually reserved Constanze was blushing profusely, and she couldn’t help but whimper when the handsome man offered her his hand again.

“Shall we go for an encore dance, m’lady?”

Though jittery, she readily accepted the offer. The boy in the suit kissed her hand, an act that set the German’s heart aflutter.

They fell into a silent waltz, repeating the dance steps from earlier but with their bodies now closer, with Amanda holding the girl by her waist.

The couple swayed to the sound of their heartbeats, eased by love, acceptance and freedom to be themselves around the other. It felt good to lead, it felt good to be led, both roles bringing a safety with them.

Neither hesitated when their faces inched closer. Amanda started humming playfully, refusing to close the few remaining centimeters still separating them.

“So, if you’re a princess, I suppose that makes me your prince.”

Constanze’s voice was shy and tremulous when she responded. “N-not… quite.”

“I suppose I haven’t asked you formally, eh? How non-chivalrous of me.” Amanda smirked widely, pulling up the muscles on the right side of his mouth. A spark of mirth danced in his eyes, like emeralds glistening under the fire of a dragon, the German noted in her romantic daze. “So, Contz, how would your pretty royal butt feel about being my princess and all that lovey-dovey mush, eh?”

Constanze took a moment, then giggled. Of course that’s how a guy like him would ask her out.

She simply did what she did best and forewent words, darting forward to catch Amanda’s lips in hers. They held each other, still swaying slightly to the sound of their silent waltz, leaving their actions to talk.

Some stuff simply didn’t need words.

 

* * *

 

It was approaching midnight as the newly formed couple walked down the hallway, the pillars soaked in lukewarm illumination. Amanda pushed a wheelbarrow, full of assorted equipment the small engineer had smuggled inside the academy, while Constanze pulled a cart with an instrument case and a metal box on top of which sat Stanbot.

“So…” started Constanze, smiling at her boyfriend. “What’s… your name?”

The redhead stopped pushing the wheelbarrow, putting his hands behind his head and clicking his tongue, mulling. “Well… I think I’m just gonna keep being Amanda. After all, I’m still _a man, duh_.”

Constanze giggled and gave him a thumbs-up. Amanda smirked.

At the courtyard, their friends were gathered and talking, looking concerned. Jasminka nervously chewed away at a caramel apple. “It’s been almost two hours since Amanda left, do you think something happened to them?”

“It _has_ been a while. Perhaps it’d be best to check up on them,” Diana spoke, failing in not letting her own concern break through her calm facade.

Sucy squinted at a corner of the courtyard, just behind the stage where Holbrooke had given an opening speech at the start of the evening. “Not necessary. There they are.”

The alchemist was right. The girls all sprinted over to the Green Team duo, both relieved and confused. “Hey, where the heck were you two?!” shouted an exasperated Akko, waving her wands in the air in an open arc.

“And why are you wearing a _suit_?” quipped Hannah.

Amanda was plugging an electric guitar strapped to his back into an amplifier. Constanze sat on top of it, messing with the dials and settings on her DAW. “Oh, Contzie here and I had some stuff we both needed to sort out. It’s all done now.” The set-up was powered through a metal box - an electric battery that the engineer had converted so it could function with charged magic crystals instead of electricity. The navy-blue haired girl gave her boyfriend a thumbs-up, signaling him to go ahead.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Amanda said, grinning confidently as he walked up the steps to the stage, “my girlfriend and I are gonna show y’all what a _real_ party looks like.”

Everyone gasped in surprise, sans Sucy, who remained impassive.

Jasminka smiled widely, rejoiced to see her roommates happy once more. Lotte and Barbara, who’d been standing at the back of the group, squee’d in excitement. They both joined their hands, stars in their eyes as they prepared a million questions for the couple.

“Oh, two girls meeting under the moonlight during Yule, exchanging whispered confessions of a repressed love that only the most beautiful of celebrations can unearth…” Lotte put her hands on her cheeks and sighed dreamily. Barbara blushed. The Brit seemed like she wanted to say something to the redhead, but didn’t act upon it.

“Two girls? Oh, sorry to disappoint your lesbian fantasies, Jansson, but you’re talking to the coolest man on the block.” All of the girls shared confused looks, but the American didn’t care. He spun a microphone in his hand and then spoke, his voice ringing out all over the courtyard.

“Heya there, Luna Nova! This is Amanda O’Neill, and you know what, it’s almost midnight! The night is young, so let’s liven it up!”

The crowd stared at him in disbelief, the American’s abrasive voice shattering the regal tone the ball held up until that point. Diana sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Should I even try to stop this, Akko?”

Akko shook her head, her hair loosening a bit from her bun. “Nah, this looks like it’s gonna be fun!”

Placing the microphone on a stand, he ran his hands through the strings of his guitar once to check if they were all tuned before playing the first riff of [the song](https://youtu.be/gkroIXktjgE). “Yeah, check me!”

 

“ _When I look in the mirror_  
_I can't believe what I see_  
_Tell me, who's that funky dude_  
_Staring back at me?_ ”

 

Hannah, who’d crossed her arms and scoffed at the American’s intrusion when it started, couldn’t help but sway to the tune. Jasminka caught sight of it and giggled, sending the auburn-haired girl into a stuttering mess. “I… I-I wasn’t joining in on this rude…” She crossed her arms and looked away, frowning, red flowing into her features. Jasminka simply wrapped a hand around her shoulder and started humming to the rock song. Hannah couldn’t help but join her girlfriend after a few verses.

 

“ _Broken, beaten down_  
_Can't even get around_  
_Without an old man cane_  
_I fall and hit the ground_  
_Shivering in the cold_  
_I'm bitter and alone_ ”

 

Constanze ordered her Stanbot to take care of the rest and joined her boyfriend on the stage. She gripped a microphone tightly, breathing in and out to try and phase out her nervousness.

She looked up to Amanda, and the boy, never missing a note on his chords or losing the pitch of his voice, threw her a sharp reassuring look that set her heart alight on fire. She breathed deeply and joined him in singing.

 

“ _Excuse the bitching_  
_I shouldn't complain_  
_I should have no feeling_  
_'Cause feeling is pain_  
_As everything I need_  
_Is denied me_ ”

 

Jaws dropped to the floor all around when the usually mute girl broke out into song, her voice brimming with confidence and harmonizing with the American’s.

“Aw, her voice is so sweet! And this song is a bop!” Akko smiled widely, stars in her eyes. She started moving in rhythm to the song and pulled Diana to join her in it. The blonde gasped at the sudden break in inertia, then rolled her eyes.

“The things I do for you…” Though awkwardly, Diana joined her girlfriend, shifting on her feet with what dance knowledge she’d acquired from years of participating in balls.

 

“ _And everything I want_  
_Is taken away from me_  
_But who do I got to blame?_ _  
__Nobody but me_ ”

 

The surprise seemed to wear off, and Amanda was pleased to see that, save for a few scandalized faces - mostly Finnelan -, the other guests were joining in, singing or dancing along.

Barbara tapped Lotte’s shoulder, eyes small and fingers shaking. “Hmm?” Lotte looked back at her with bright, kind eyes.

“D-do you wanna like, you know, maybe d-dance along? W-with me?” Barbara finished, clenching her fists.

“Oh!” The Finnish blushed as she understood the other girl’s intent. “S-sure! I’m sure that’d be… lovely!” She squeaked the last word, before joining the Brit in cutting their own rug on the courtyard’s floor.

 

“ _And I don't wanna be an old man anymore_  
_It's been a year or two since I was out on the floor_ _  
__Shaking booty, making sweet love all the night_ ”

 

Sucy bobbed along to the rhythm. She wasn’t one for big noisy social encounters, but honestly? She was having fun. Because she was with her friends, this ragtag group of stupid girls - and now one boy, it seemed - who accepted her the way she was.

“Yo, Anne!” Nelson, clad in a blue dress with a suit jacket, elbowed the stern witch. “Loosen up a bit, it’s Yule! Come on!” Much like Akko, the broom teacher dragged the reluctant and protesting old woman in for a dance, cackling loudly.

“I’ll have those two clean all the bathrooms, Nelson, I swear.” Despite those words, the professor of Linguistics soon joined her academic colleague, much to the enjoyment of the students who caught the bizarre sight of the school’s most traditionalist teacher dancing to a rock song.

Chariot sighed from her chair, admiring the contagious folly of youth. She’d have to write about this to Croix later. The couple on the stage reminded her of her own escapades with the lilac haired witch’s during their first years together. And when the Italian was released from prison, there was no way she was going to escape a dance.

“No matter how old I grow, I will never cease to admire how beautiful youth is,” spoke principal Holbrooke with a sage smile from the other side of the table.

Chariot giggled. “Their fire is the same fire that magic is made of, if you ask me, Principal.”

The matriarch of the academy nodded. “And it’s resting inside of all of us, waiting to be accepted.”

The couple on the stage sang with open lungs, not caring about whether their voices sounded masculine or feminine, or what gender people saw them as. Tonight, they were a handsome boyfriend and a cute girlfriend, earning a surefire detention in the coolest way possible: with a live rock concert.

They locked eyes once again, the next lyrics speaking out to both of them.

 

“ _It's time I got back to the good life_  
_It's time I got back, it's time I got back_  
_And I don't even know how I got off the track_ _  
_ _I wanna go back, yeah!_ ”

 

And from tonight on, they’d swear to never be ashamed of who they were. They were proud. They were safe.

And they would always have someone with whom to converse.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed this fic. I poured a LOT of love, time and my own personal experiences into it - I actually broke down once while writing, that's how intense it was.
> 
> I'm transfem, so I'm sorry if I didn't do Amanda justice with my writing at any point.
> 
> (and Broeckoli, if you're reading this, sorry for stealing the a man duh joke - you're a cool writer and I love u <3)


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